


Laws of the Universe

by arcadenemesis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ace Attorney, Bad Jokes, Courtroom Drama, Drunken Confessions, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up Together, Investigations, Law School, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadenemesis/pseuds/arcadenemesis
Summary: Young defence attorney Takashi Shirogane finds himself alone after the senseless murder of the person dearest to him, and all of the absolute truths he once knew come crashing down around him. When the reason for his path is gone, will he be able to find something new? Is justice the true course, or will he require something more to take down a cold-blooded killer?The Ace Attorney AU no one needs. Based around the events of Dual Destinies, adapted for Voltron. Knowledge of the game isn't necessary, but please be aware spoilers are abound.





	1. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro tries to deal with his new losses. It involves ignoring medical advice, getting lost in the past and becoming suspicious of everyone around him.

The sensation of phantom fingers was a deeply unsettling and new, alien feeling. A whole body experience that set his nerves afire and shifted his world into an awkward tilt he couldn't right. And yet, it still couldn't compare to the ghost that had settled deep into his chest exactly 3 days, 21 hours and 49 minutes ago. The adjustment to the loss of a limb would likely take years, they had warned him. The loss of Keith would take a lifetime.

"Shiro?"

Pidge's uncertain voice pulled him from his thoughts, forcing himself to look up to where he knew his junior partner would be watching him with concern knitted into her expression, too wary of all he had been through these last few days alone to be annoyed at whatever conversation he had dropped out of. He gave his best attempt at a reassuring smile. He thought it was at least mostly successful.

"Sorry Pidge. Miles away. What were you saying?"

Her gaze drifted uneasily to the IV bag strung up at his side, toying with the frames of her large, round glasses. Shiro was again reminded of how she had closed up when they first arrived at the Garrison Space Centre to examine the scene. The way she had frozen without explanation and ran off with a hasty explanation he had barely heard. His bracelet tightened on his wrist, but when he reached for it, he was met only with air. He corrected to grip the end of the amputated limb, fighting a wince when his collarbone twinged as he adjusted it in the awkward sling held tight to his ribcage. It didn’t escape Pidge’s notice, who eyed the bandage with a pained expression that was anything but subtle.

"It's just... I'm not sure you should be looking at these files right now. Your anaesthesia is probably still affecting you and the doctors said you should be resting."

"I'm _fine_."

Shiro wasn't sure whether her flinch came from his choice of words or the way he grit them out through his teeth. He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes closed before trying again.

"I'm fine," he repeated, softly this time. "Keeping my mind on the investigation helps."

Pidge didn't look convinced, mouth opening to object. But in a moment of mercy, she seemed to think best of it. Better still, the little robot draped around her throat stayed silent too.

“It’s day two of Shay’s trial, right?” Best to move the conversation away from him, before she could probe into his feelings. Or worse, say _his_ name. “Allura said you and Rover really turned things around with your emotional analysis of her testimony yesterday.”

Pidge flushed a little under his praise, but then she adjusted her glasses with a sigh.  
“Yeah, but if the boss hadn’t showed up when she did, we would have been toast. I thought I was ready for my first solo case, but…”

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, “you held down the fort. That’s the important thing. Remember what Allura always tells us: A lawyer is someone who smiles no matter how bad it gets.”

Her expression eased a little.  
“She was asking after you. Shay, I mean. When this is over, I think she’d really like to visit to say thank you and… and sorry too. If it wasn’t for what you did when that bomb went off—”

“What happened wasn’t her fault,” Shiro cut in again quickly, pain shooting down to invisible fingers at the memory.

It came back to him uninvited, pulsing in time with the burn. He remembered the sinking in his stomach when the PD’s bomb technician had interrupted testimony to declare the - quite literally - explosive evidence active and counting down. He remembered Shay’s scream as she was knocked down in the panic. The rush of bodies as he fought the flow of the evacuation of Courtroom 4. It had been instinct to run to her aide and shield her from the blast. Shiro was still yet to unpack the complicated mix of emotions over what had happened next. Bitterness, disbelief, grief… but not regret. Even knowing the price now, it was one he would gladly pay again to save an innocent person’s life.

He said nothing to Pidge of the fact that the last thing he wanted right now was more visitors, more offers of sympathy and pity. Get Well Soon cards and flowers were a bit hard to stomach when there wasn’t much to be done about growing back an arm.

“Tell her focusing on giving her best testimony so you can wrap this case up as quickly as possible is all I ask for. The sooner she’s free, the sooner we can return to Kei… to Kolivan’s case.”

Pidge, not quite catching the slip, nodded with a smile as Rover beeped in affirmation at her throat.  
“Just watch!” she grinned, stooping to shoulder her satchel. She re-tucked her green blouse into her slacks as she paused by the door. “We’ll be back before you know it. I’m going to get that Not Guilty verdict before lunch.”

Shiro chuckled, but the sound felt distorted and tight in his throat.  
“I don't doubt it. And hey, Pidge?”

The junior defence attorney paused at the doorway.

“Let me hear you say it.”

The hesitation was only fractional, but Shiro felt the full weight of it until Pidge forced her biggest smile, punching a fist into her palm.

“Pidge Gunderson is fine!”

* * *

_By the tender age of eleven, Takashi Shirogane had become an expert in sneaking out. Having lived at the Children’s Home for a good portion of his memory, he had learned the habits of the matrons, which stairs squeaked on the way down and how to jimmy the back door just right to escape into the night. With his bed stuffed with his pillows and blankets draped properly, no one was ever the wiser to his nocturnal adventures. Which was why he was startled when he heard a soft sob at the edge of the garden on his way off-grounds._

_Curious, he edged forward silently, peering over the garden wall. Just beyond, a small figure sat hunched in the dirt, rubbing furiously at their eyes, shoulders quaking violently as they tried to suppress their sounds in vain._

_Shiro vaulted the wall, and red-rimmed violet eyes whipped over to him underneath a mop of black hair when his bare feet hit the ground. Shiro recognised him as the new kid who had arrived this afternoon. He wasn't surprised to see him crying. The very nature of his arrival meant that something terrible must have happened to him, as with all the children who entered the Home. Shiro had comforted countless others before him, reassuring them that the matrons were kind, the food was filling and beds comfortable. Most importantly, everyone always looked out for each other, no matter how long they stayed. But he was surprised to find him outside, after lights out. None of the other children ever made it past their bedroom doors without being caught and sent swiftly back to bed. The new kid must have been a natural in midnight stealth._

_The small boy glared at him defiantly, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve._  
_“What do you want?” he demanded wetly._

_Shiro, having always been a kind child, simply offered a comforting smile._  
_“I was going for a walk and I heard you crying. Can I sit with you?”_

_The other boy shrugged, sniffing loudly. Taking it as good an invitation as any, Shiro moved closer to plonk himself down to his side._

_“My name's Takashi Shirogane. But everyone calls me Shiro,” he said without reservation. “What's your name?”_

_The boy looked at Shiro sideways, as if confused by his openness._  
_“Keith… Kogane. Just Keith.”_

_“Nice to meet you Keith,” Shiro beamed brightly. “I don't know what happened, and you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but it's going to be fine. We all know how you feel right now, but it won't last forever.”_

_Keith looked up at him with those curiously coloured eyes, emphasised only more by the tears gathered in them. He seemed to assess Shiro for a moment again.  
_ _“My papa died last week,” he said quietly. “And mama… she disappeared years ago.”_

_He seemed to fold in on himself, hugging his arms.  
_ _“I went to some foster family but I ran away. When they caught up with me they took me here.”_

_Shiro gave a sympathetic smile, shuffling a little closer to place a hand on Keith’s shoulder. The other boy’s spine stiffened at the touch and he looked to the hand and then Shiro’s face in surprise. But whatever he saw there must have soothed him, as he didn't pull away and his posture started to relax again.  
_ _“I lost both my parents when I was a baby,” Shiro shared. “I don't remember what they look like and I don't have any photos. Just this bracelet my mother left behind.”_ _He lifted his wrist, shaking the large gold bangle there._ _“It helps me tell when people are hiding something from me."_

_The other boy frowned, scrutinising the piece of jewellery closely. “I don’t believe you.”_

_“It does!” Shiro laughed, already familiar with the skepticism that came with his gift. “When people aren’t telling the truth, their body language changes. It’s like my bracelet gets tighter and all of a sudden I can see their nervous habits. Like when you said you ran away. You tapped your finger on your knee and looked off to the side —”_

_“I wasn’t lying,” Keith cut in quickly, too defensively. He must have known, because he suddenly looked crestfallen and buried his head against his knees. “I wasn’t…” he cut himself off with a muffled sniff, then smally, “don’t do that…”_

_Shiro suddenly felt guilty._  
_“Hey, it’s okay. I had a foster dad before too. He said he would come back when it was safe to get me but…” He shrugged. “It’s not your fault it didn’t work out.”  
__“But it's okay now. The past happened but there's a whole future full of opportunity. Even for a couple of kids like us.”_

_“How can you say that though?” Keith asked, raising his head and looking entirely unconvinced. “How can you know it's going to be alright in the end?”_

_“You just have to believe it!” Shiro said earnestly. “We're the ones in charge of our own destiny and no one can tell us otherwise. Whenever I start to forget, I just stand up and shout: ‘Takashi Shirogane is fine!’ You should try it.”_

_Keith looked around nervously._  
_“I don't know… what if the matrons hear us out here?”_

_Shiro jumped to his feet, offering his hand to the other boy._  
_“Trust me?”_

_Keith hesitated only to glance back at the Home, before grasping Shiro's hand, letting him tug him up to his feet to drag him down the pathway and through a large meadow under the moonlight._

_It was only when they reached a little run-down shack on a hill that Shiro let go to place his hands on his knees, both boys out of puff._

_“Don't worry, no one comes here,” Shiro reassured after he caught his breath. “We can climb up onto the roof and shout from there.”_

_Keith looked unsure, but followed nonetheless, accepting Shiro's hand again as he scrambled over the gutters. His eyes lit up at he looked down into the valley below.  
_ _“Hey, is that the Garrison Space Centre down there?” he asked, pointing down to the distant structure, where a rocket stood in construction just off to its right._

_Seeing the change in his mood, Shiro jumped onto the topic immediately._  
_“Yep! Sometimes the Centre does a free info day and the Head Matron organises for us to get a tour from Kolivan himself.”_

_Keith's eyes were practically bugging out of his head._  
_“_ The _Kolivan? The first astronaut to complete a space walk beyond the moon's orbit?”_

_Shiro nodded enthusiastically._  
_“You seem to know a lot about him already?”_

_“He's incredible,” Keith practically gushed. He turned his small face up to the night sky, galaxies winking in and out of existence above them. “I heard they're planning a mission to take new samples from the moon.” He reached up, as if trying to pluck the stars from the sky itself. “I wish I could go with them.”_

_Shiro looked up too, smiling._  
_“You dream of going into space?”_

_“Mm!”_

_“My dream is to become a famous defence attorney.”_

_Keith turned to regard him curiously._  
_“Why?”_

_“My foster dad was a lawyer. He used to say that his job meant protecting those who can’t protect themselves from injustice. That the law and the people in charge of it don’t always do the right thing. Being an attorney means taking care of some of the most vulnerable people in the world. I want to do that too - save innocent people from punishments they don’t deserve.”_

_“But what about if they_ are _bad people? How can you tell if they whether they belong in jail or not?”_

_“I guess that’s where this comes in handy,” Shiro replied, shaking his adorned wrist again, laughing when Keith only scowled in response._

_Shiro suddenly scrambled to his feet, offering his hand out again.  
_ _“Okay, it’s time. Yell it out into the universe. Say ‘Keith Kogane is fine!’”_

_He could still sense the boy's uncertainty as he let himself be pulled up to stand. Well, okay, it had less to do with Shiro’s innate empathy; Keith had the subtlety of a brick to the face, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him like he had grown another head. And Shiro was capable taking a hint._

_“Alright, I'll go first.”_

_He squared his shoulders, facing out to the Space Centre below, and took a deep breath._  
_“Takashi Shirogane is fine!”_  
_He grinned, then turned to Keith.  
_ _“Now your turn.”_

_The other boy still looked entirely unconvinced, but he copied nonetheless, steeling himself and cupping his hands around his mouth. He gave Shiro one last side glance before he drew breath._

_“... Keith Kogane is fine!”_

_His voice cracked around the last word, but when he dropped his hands, he sported a ridiculous pout, as if trying very hard not to smile._

_“Better, right?” Shiro beamed._

_Keith looked down, attempting to hide the quirk to his lips. Shiro caught sight of it anyway, triumphant._

_“Yeah… better…”_

* * *

 “Sir, I must advise strongly against this.”

The doctor’s mouth painted a thin, grim line, pen tapping at his clipboard.

“After such a traumatic injury, you should remain under our observation for at 8 days at a bare minimum. Even if we disregard your requirements for competent post-surgical care, there’s still your physical therapy and mental health management we need to oversee. There is an 83.7% chance that you will develop some form of post-traumatic stress disorder without early intervention.”

Shiro worked his bracelet onto his left wrist calmly, settling it in place with a quick shake of his hand. It hadn’t been quite as frustrating, nor as painful, as dressing himself back into his black vest and a new dress shirt, but the task of completing it one-handed had been challenging all the same. He tried not to focus on how foreign it felt there, instead turning his attention to the red jacket folded over the chair beside him.

“Do you intend to hold me for psychiatric assessment, Doctor Slav?” he asked clinically, not glancing up.

He heard the uncomfortable shuffling of feet.

“I think you’re aware already Mr. Shirogane that we have no legal grounds to do so based on our observations so far.”

“Then I would like my release form.”  
He stood, pulling the jacket to his chest in a tight grip.  
“I’m aware of the risks I run regarding infection and my physical recovery. But just as I told your nurses, I have no desire to sit here in this hospital longer than absolutely necessary.”

Slav was clearly frustrated, his brow pinching in poorly concealed displeasure.

“But it is necessary Mr Shirogane. Your body has been put through significant stress. Limb amputation is not a surgery you can simply brush off like this. There is a 26.1% chance of atrophy and a 39.8% chance of further ligament and tendon damage if you are reckless in your care. What’s more, Mr Kogane’s death—”

“The release form,” Shiro interrupted curtly between gritted teeth, fingers tightening around the jacket in his hand. “Now.”

The silent stand off lasted only a few moments before the doctor schooled his expression back to one of professional detachment, unclipping a piece of paper from his board.

“Very well. Please read the conditions and initial in each of the boxes. We will require your social security number and signature at the bottom of the second page. The nurse at the front desk will see to your prescription for antibiotics and pain management.”

Shiro draped the jacket around his shoulders before taking the form, pointedly ignoring the childish scrawl of his non-preferred hand as he signed off without reading through. Slav sighed heavily, but didn’t reprimand him.

“I’ll have this processed now,” he said as Shiro handed it back.  
“But Mr Shirogane,” he continued in sudden soft earnest, “if you have any problems at all, if something doesn’t feel right, come back here immediately so we can ensure your recovery isn’t compromised.”

Shiro swallowed down the tightness in his throat, giving a single nod. The doctor sighed again and swept from the room without another word. Shiro reached up to grip the shoulder of the jacket he wore, turning his face into the high collar and taking a deep breath. Lemongrass and motor oil. He closed his eyes. It was faint, but still there all the same.

_“What do you mean? Why would I recognise it at all?”_

Shiro could remember the tightening of his bracelet on his right arm when Pidge had spoken. The way she had reacted when they first saw the knife had struck Shiro as unusual. The two of them had seen their fair share of murder weapons together, and even if the blood on this one seemed to seep into him like a slow poison, there was no explanation for when she had stopped still to stare at it wide-eyed. Grief and other interfering emotions had long been pushed aside for the sake of the case, but the curiosity Shiro had felt then was genuine. The moment he had quizzed her about it, her tells had lit up immediately, his bracelet helping him focus in on the way she worried her lip between her teeth as she adjusted her glasses and the way her eyes flickered ever so slightly to the insignia on the blade.

She had been lying to him.

Shiro was still struggling to reconcile the reason. Pidge had never kept secrets from him before. They functioned well as a unit, honest and open with each other as partners during their investigations and as friends outside the cases. So why would that suddenly change? Shiro was almost positive that Pidge had recognised the strange purple markings on the handle of the knife. Perhaps somewhere in her subconscious, a memory had tried to surface, blocked and eroded by the passage of time. Maybe she wasn't even certain whether the familiarity really rang true at all.

Or maybe it was something more sinister.

Shiro shook his head as if to banish the thought, bitter bile in the back of his throat. But the idea wouldn't leave him. What if Pidge knew the blade far more intimately? What if she had once held it in her hands? What if…

Shiro choked, rushing to the basin in the adjoining bathroom to expel his breakfast onto the porcelain. It wasn't possible. Pidge hadn't even known Keith. Not properly. But Shiro knew her and he trusted her. Or at least, he used to.

He heaved again at his doubt. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as he gasped for his erratic breath, spitting into the sink.

_‘In for 2… 3… 4… And out…’_

He turned on the tap to rinse the basin and his mouth, splashing the cold water onto his face. Still hunched over, he looked up to the mirror, taking stock of the healing scar across the bridge of his nose, the dark circles under his eyes, and the patch of greying hair at his crown.

“Takashi Shirogane is fine,” he coached himself.

He felt anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far! What started as a mere musing over an anonymous Tumblr ask about Claypollo and Sheith has developed into this monster. Trust me when I say I'm the one who hates it the most. 
> 
> It's been a very very long time since I wrote anything, so I apologise in advance - not about anything in particular, just the entire thing really. Any errors throughout are entirely my own as I'm far too awkward to have this beta-read. 
> 
> It's going to be a long ride, and if you're not into angst (like me... honestly why am I writing this) then maybe just read the flashbacks. They are far happier!
> 
> The whole thing is probably going to end up around 4 or 5 chapters and based on my planning, this one is fairly short and sweet to get us started. 
> 
> Comments may motivate me to actually come up with some kind of update schedule, who knows. Come find me on tumblr at justicelawoffices where you can submit your harsh critiques!


	2. Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith considers the fleeting nature of life and his place in it. The Voltron Law Offices finds itself at a crossroads. In the past, Shiro comes to a startling realisation.

_“What do you think happens to us when we die?”_

_Shiro stilled, looking up from his entrance essay. After a moment, he placed his pen down and leaned forward. At the desk across from him, Keith kept his gaze unflinchingly on his physics textbook, reading in the lamp light._

_“Where's this coming from?”_

_He knew. It had been years since Shiro had found him alone, just a small boy crying for the loss of his father. But he knew just as well that spectres of the past never truly vanished. They would always linger, itching at the edge of his existence with little relief. Sometimes it was best to ignore it and allow the sensation to fade on its own. But other times, like now, it seemed that leaving it unaddressed only aggravated it more._

_“... It's nothing.”_

_Shiro's bracelet tightened around his wrist immediately. He resisted the urge to rub at it when he saw Keith’s eyes dart to his hand briefly. The younger boy knew he was caught and his lips drew a tight grimace. Shiro saw no point in voicing the fact out loud._

_Keith’s shoulders hunched up to his ears when Shiro’s chair dragged across the cheap linoleum as he stood. But he didn't push the older boy away when he leaned his forearms on the table next to him. Shiro glanced over the complicated notes spread out on its surface, mountains of equations and strangely artistic diagrams of trajectories. Keith had never been short on motivation, but as the launch of the HAT-1 rocket loomed, his work rate had increased to frightening levels. He was well on his way to chasing his dream of joining the space program at the Garrison Centre, and was determined to join Kolivan on his next mission whenever it would come._

_On the notebook in front of Shiro, a calculation had been written, rewritten, crossed out and messily scrubbed at in frustration. The paper had been crumpled and re-smoothed, and under the mess in Keith’s neat cursive, he had written a short phrase before continuing the workings again._

**Patience yields focus.**

_The little happy face drawn next to the final, correct answer - complete with undercut - was hopelessly endearing._

_“When does the meteor shower start?”_

_Keith glanced at his watch._

_“About 35 minutes. But it won't peak for another 90 at least— hey!”_

_Shiro ignored his protest as he plucked the textbook from his hands, carefully bookmarking the page before setting it down on his other notebooks._

_“Let's get a head start then. I don't know about you, but there's only so much I can write about ethics in lawmaking before my eyes want to fall out. Besides, gotta make sure we get the best spot.”_

_Keith rolled his eyes sourly. “No one ever comes to our spot.”_

_“And wouldn't it be such a shame if tonight was the first night they did,” Shiro replied with a grin._

_He leaned down into Keith’s line of vision, tilting his head so it almost rested on the table in front of him._

_“Come on,” he goaded, flashing what he hoped was a good attempt at puppy dog eyes. He was determined to fish Keith out of whatever mental dip he had found himself in. And nothing cheered him up more than stargazing, pointing out planets and constellations as Shiro listened on beside him. He_ _watched Keith stare him down, ears turning pink before his expression relaxed in resignation._

_“Fine,” he huffed. “But if you fall asleep out there, I'm not waking you up this time.”_

_Shiro looked wounded._

_“That was just once! You try staying awake past midnight after three exams on completely unrelated areas of law in one day.”_

_Keith finally laughed and Shiro felt his chest grow warm._

_“Good thing you're going to be the attorney and not me then,” he teased as he stood, swiping up his jacket._

 ...

 _The walk to the little abandoned shack overlooking the Garrison Space Centre was punctuated by Shiro talking about his worries about being accepted for his Juris Doctor next year. Keith listened dutifully, breaking his silence only to offer words of support and encouragement when needed. This was what their friendship had always been, helping each other chase their wildly different dreams and sharing in each other's trials and jubilations along the way. They kept each other focused and on track, and so despite the lack of specialist schools and private tutors, both had made significant headway into reaching their goals while they were still quite young. Shiro could hardly believe he was looking at fast tracking his path to becoming a defence attorney by the time he would turn 23. At 18, the end was still far away, but in sight nonetheless._  

 _“And I mean, I_ guess _writing about how sociology and the law are intrinsically linked isn't as exciting as working out how to fly a rocket, but I'm actually really enjoying it.”_

_“I have no idea what you mean,” Keith grinned, throwing himself unceremoniously onto the grass. “I find the idea of having my own attorney an incredibly thrilling concept.”_

_“Just what are you planning that involves having your own attorney?” Shiro eyed him with mock-suspicion, lowering himself a little more carefully to lay on his back. “Besides, who said I was going defend your shady dealings in court?”_

_Keith smiled, pulling his knee up to his chest._

_“You'd never abandon me.”_

_The words came out surprisingly serious, his voice soft but confident. Shiro blinked at the sudden shift, struggling to form a reply, and Keith’s watch blipped quietly before his brain could catch up._

_“It's about to start,” the younger boy said, casting his eyes up._

_Shiro tucked his palm under his head, the very first of the lights streaking across the atmosphere above them. Watching the meteor showers was much more for Keith’s benefit than his. But the time spent together was precious to Shiro in a way he couldn't put into words. And it didn't matter if he didn't want to chase his dreams into space like Keith. Away from the light pollution, the night sky was objectively magnificent. He didn't have to be a budding astronaut to appreciate that. And the time away from his books helped refresh his perspective too. A thought came to him as he recalled Keith’s question earlier that evening._

_“The stars sure look beautiful tonight,” he mused as nonchalantly as possible. Keith just hummed his agreement unsuspectingly._

_“You know what else is beautiful?”_

_He felt Keith flinch beside him slightly, but focused on staring right ahead and trying not to crack a grin. He missed the dusting of pink that spread across the other boy's cheeks in the dark._

_“L. A. Hart’s concept of legal positivism and his philosophy of social influence on authority.”_

_There was a pause, then suddenly a fist thumped against his shoulder._

_“Idiot,” Keith muttered as Shiro laughed, turning his face away._

_Shiro sat up to fling his arms around the other boy’s hunched shoulders, scruffing his hair. Keith yelped his protest but didn't shove him off, and when Shiro settled one arm around him, he leaned ever so slightly into the hold._

_“You asked me what I think happens after we’re gone?” Shiro asked, turning his face back up to the sky, where their personal light show was ramping up.  
_ _"Maybe we turn into stars. And maybe some of us can't stay away. Which is why this happens.”_

_“Corny, even for you,” Keith scoffed. “How can we turn into stars when our bodies are stuck on the earth?”_

_Shiro laughed, squeezing him to his side.  
_ _"Good question. I guess don't know the answer... But I don't think it's the end. We’ll see them again, I'm sure.”_

_Shiro pretended not to hear Keith sniff, his response coming at a delay._

_“Promise?”_

_Shiro rested his head on Keith's with a smile._

_“Promise.”_

* * *

Pidge was the first to look up when Shiro arrived late in the afternoon, round glasses exaggerating the surprise in her eyes.

“Shiro?!”

Allura’s head shot up, and immediately she abandoned the evidence list on her desk. She stood, smoothing the material of her pink pencil skirt.  
“What do you think you're doing here, Shiro?” she admonished, unable to conceal her concern. “You should be in a hospital bed.”

Shiro pulled the jacket draped over his shoulders a little closer.  
“No… I couldn't stay there, doing nothing. Not while…”  
He grit his teeth, looking down.

“You need to rest!” Pidge cut in. “Leave Kolivan’s case to us. We’ll take it from here.” 

Shiro's eyes hardened, still staring at the ground.  
“Thanks… but that's not an option. Not for me.” 

Allura looked troubled, pausing as she moved around her desk, placing a hand on the tabletop.  
“Shiro… your injuries.”  
Her voice was gentle and even, but it still grated against Shiro's raw nerve endings nonetheless.  
"You're putting your health in danger by being here.”

“I'm fine. The hospital provided me with everything I needed. I was just wasting a bed there.”  
He avoided the disbelieving looks from his colleagues.  
“Now that Shay has been cleared, the court has let Kolivan’s trial recommence, right? Tell me how the case is going. What progress have you made?”

Allura exchanged a glance with Pidge, but his junior partner seemed to decide keeping him informed was best, no matter what Allura was trying to silently communicate.

“We have a witness that claims a suspicious figure was spotted in the lounge just after the explosion at the launch pad. But the description doesn't match Kolivan. It has to be the real killer!”

Despite her enthusiasm, Shiro remained thoughtfully quiet.

“I thought you'd be happy to hear that,” Allura interjected gently after a moment, sitting on the corner of her desk.

“Mm?” Shiro snapped out of his reverie.  
“I… I am. And I'm going to make sure Keith's murderer is brought to justice.” His voice went cold. “Nothing in this universe will get in the way of that.”

Allura was solemn as she spoke.  
“Keith meant a lot to you…” 

“He meant…” Shiro tried desperately to unfurl his phantom fist, the throb of pain starting to work its way up his arm. “He meant everything.”

“What was he like?” Pidge asked, chewing on her lip.

Shiro’s smile was bittersweet, because how did anyone begin to describe the enigma that was Keith Kogane: orphan, dreamer, astronaut, friend... much more.  
  
“He was focused. Passionate. If he set his mind to something, he would achieve it in the end. But never at the expense of anyone else. On the outside he could seem distant to those who didn't know him well enough, but his heart was always open just below the surface. Nothing was worth the pain of a loved one to Keith. He would sooner…”  
Shiro stopped, swallowing hard. 

“And now he's gone.”

Allura’s shoulders tensed and Shiro knew she was fighting between her professionalism as his boss and her desire to comfort him as a friend. 

“Shiro, about that jacket…”

“... It's Keith’s. It was given to him after he was selected for the HAT-2 mission. I remember how happy he was when he came home wearing it for the first time. He'd finally achieved his dream… and then…” he started to crack, “then…”

His fist connected to the wall behind him with a crack, making Pidge jump.

“It's not fair!”

Allura took a step forward as he drew a shaky breath, but stopped short when he squared his shoulders a schooled his expression back into something more neutral.

“I'll never forgive the person who took his dream from him.”

“I know,” Allura said softly. “Shiro, the way you feel… it's natural. You've been through a lot. Just… don't forget that as attorneys, our first and foremost task is to save our client, not avenge the victim.

Conflict constricted Shiro’s ribs tightly.  
“I-I understand that,” he said, trying not to let desperation bleed into his voice. “That's why—" 

His voice failed him completely. Allura finally abandoned professionalism to close the distance, reaching up to touch his face. Shiro caught her hand though, gently redirecting it away. Up close, he could see his tired face mirrored in concerned blue eyes.

“Sorry Allura, but I'll be taking a leave of absence.”

Beside them, Pidge looked stricken.  
“Wait, what do you mean?” 

“Shiro, I could understand if you were taking the time to heal,” Allura said softly, “but clearly that's not the case here. I can see the files in your bag and I know you don't want to give up this investigation. Can you at give me a reason why you don't want to work with the Voltron Offices?”

Shiro turned his face away, unable to look Allura in the eye. There was no way he could tell her. That his reason was borne of the seed of doubt in his mind. That the roots of distrust and suspicion had spread and grounded themselves deep into his stomach. He had always trusted his intuition. And it told him now that he needed to do this alone.

“When I put on Keith's jacket, it was my promise to him. I'm going to catch his killer myself.”

“But that's our goal too!” Pidge insisted.

Allura glanced to the junior attorney, trying to offer her split-second reassurance.  
“Pidge is right. We should find the truth together.” 

Shiro knew she was trying to watch out for him. It had always been this way since she had first recruited him, fresh from law school after the bar. She had given him his start and he would always be grateful for that. But right now…

“The truth…”  
He released her wrist, stepping away.  
“What if the truths we seek turn out to be different though?”

“What could you possibly mean, Shiro?”  
Allura sounded exasperated and horrified all at once. 

“I'm going to find the monster who took Keith's life, my own way.”  
His tone was finite, turning away. He paused when he opened the office door, his hand on the handle.  
“Take good care of Kolivan. It's what Keith would have wanted.” 

“Goodbye.”

* * *

" _That's time, Keith. Pens down.”_

_Keith let out a long sigh as he sat back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair where it had been getting a little longer at the back. He turned a tired smile up to his companion._

_“Thanks for keeping an eye on the clock. I know you have better things to be doing than watch me take another practice exam.”_

_Shiro waved him off.  
__“I got a pretty big chunk of my torts essay done, so I'm not complaining. That's the last one, right?”_  

 _Keith nodded, fishing for a red pen and an answer key.  
__“Then it's the real deal tomorrow,” he said, looking a little green._  

 _Shiro tsked disapprovingly.  
__“You’re fine, Keith. Say it.”_  

 _Keith sighed again, but replied obediently.  
__“Keith Kogane is fine.”_  

 _Shiro attempted to channel all of his encouragement into a warm smile.  
__“You've done the hard work and it's just one last hurdle. And what's your average score right now? Ninety-five?”_  

_“Ninety-six,” Keith corrected, trying - and failing - not to look smug._

_Shiro laughed._    
_“Why the hell am I being your cheerleader then? You don't need me.”_

_“Not true,” he rebutted immediately, eyes focused on his paper as he started marking his answers. After all this time, his determination still shone through as strong as ever, undeterred even in the face of the news of HAT-1’s disastrous launch a year ago._

_Shiro watched as his brow creased in concentration, and the way he chewed on the end of his pen as he read. His boots tapped out an anxious rhythm on the floor, but Shiro found himself unbothered by the distraction. If anything, it was a little charming, watching his nervous habits on display all at once._

_“You don't have to wait,” Keith said suddenly, without looking up._

_Shiro felt strangely startled, as if caught out. Just how long had he been sitting there, staring, essay abandoned at his elbow? He cleared his throat._

_“I was thinking we could go to the Space Centre after you finish marking. One last time for good luck before your exam. My treat.”_  

_Keith’s eyes shot up, violet and eager and Shiro felt his heart give an odd thump._

_“Yeah?”_

_Shiro swallowed and nodded, suddenly not trusting himself to speak. The smile that spread across Keith’s lips at the gesture sent him into a spin. Shiro had to stop himself from reaching up to hold his head as he finally looked back down to his essay again. He tried to focus intently, but the words refused to sink in. Paragraphs sat idle on the pages in front of him and letters threatened to blur out of comprehension. Was he sick? Had he not had enough to eat before he agreed to join Keith as his adjudicator this morning?_

_He risked a glance up to the boy in question again, where he was marking his test with renewed vigor. Between questions, he twirled his pen between his fingers in an absent flourish. His mouth quirked at the corners with every answer he got right and he alternated between chewing his bottom lip raw and soothing it with a quick flick of his tongue. When he paused to blow his fringe out of his eyes, Shiro felt his insides flip over._

_Okay, so he wasn't ill. It was far worse._

_Takashi Shirogane had inexplicably fallen in love with his best friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #he is looking at keith
> 
> So, I have added an extra two chapters to the description above. I wasn't loving the spacing in my plans. God help me, I hope that's the last time I revise it. So much for my original trilogy of chapters!
> 
> Writing the flashbacks is proving much easier than the present-day story line. Can't imagine why...
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me for another chapter. Please direct your complaints to justicelawoffices on Tumblr.


	3. Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro restarts his investigation and hits the (crime)scene. Maybe two new faces will bring new leads?
> 
> Flashback to how not to handle a developing and debilitating crush. Keith comes up with a suitable pet name for Shiro. 
> 
> Shiro persists with the one old joke he knows. It's still terrible.

3AM blinked at him in angry red, as if admonishing him for still being conscious at such an absurd hour. His trip to the Garrison Space Centre had been brief and frustrating, impeded by the presence of the case’s lead detective and Prosecutor Holt. He had barely had a chance to question any Centre employees or inspect the crime scene before Holt had ordered him off-premises, furious and intimidating even shackled in his heavy handcuffs. Shiro was still at a loss as to how the man was heading the case against Kolivan. As far as he understood it, the jailbird Prosecutor was on death row for the murder of a gifted robotics technician seven years ago at the very same Centre. His father, no less. Never minding the sheer mind boggling aspect that the man was somehow still legally allowed to practice law, it just seemed in poor taste for him to be leading the case for another murder at the Centre all these years later.

Shiro shook his head, trying to refocus. The decisions of the District Attorney’s office were none of his concern, and he could waste his time pondering the ethics involved in the loopholes later - after he had solved Keith’s murder. The answer had to be here, somewhere in the mountain of evidence from the Garrison Centre. Somehow the pieces of the puzzle still floated around him though, staying just out of his reach so he couldn't start fitting them together. He pinched his eyes closed in frustration, reaching up to grip his bandaged shoulder. He could almost picture Keith scolding him now, a fond turn of his lips undermining his tone.

“Idiot.” His voice was quiet and low. Intimately so. “You need to rest. Even the Voltron Law Office’s brightest star can’t keep solving cases on no sleep.”

He leaned in, and Shiro could smell the faint mix of lemongrass and motor oil that belonged only to him, feel the warmth of skin as he reached out to touch…

Shiro startled himself awake, head whipping to the clock on the desk. 3:04AM. His eyes shot back to the empty space before him, trying to stop his chest from heaving and fighting the itch in his throat.

It was at a moment like this he wish he had some kind of vice - alcohol, a tendency for reckless daredevil activities, anything - to keep him running from the reality of everything that had happened these last few days. He ran his hand over his face, stubble scratching at his palm, and turned back to his stone cold coffee. The spilled contents of his case file strewn across the desk gave him pause and he released a humorless sound.

Maybe he really did have a vice after all.

* * *

_"What's going in that head of yours there, Supernova?”_

_Keith blinked at the nickname, eyes refocusing on Shiro again._  
_“Ah… um, it's just, I realised…”_  
_He turned his attention back to the wrench, tightening the front wheel axle. He took his time to complete his thought while Shiro waited patiently.  
“I guess I only just realised I've known you longer now than I knew my dad.”_

_Shiro stopped still. For him, they had passed that milestone very early in their friendship with little fanfare. But only because he hadn't had a chance to know his parents at all. The moment for Keith would undeniably hold far more weight, and Shiro was at a loss for what to say._

_“Keith…” he started, hoping the words would just come._

_The budding astronaut looked up to him with a smile, wiping the sweat from his forehead, only to smear it with the grease on the back of his glove.  
  
_ _“I'm fine,” and Shiro felt a swell of pride. “I guess I'm just glad that you're still here.”_

 _Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.  
_ _“I always will be,” he said seriously._

 _Keith reached up to place a hand over Shiro’s briefly with a smile. But when he tried to turn back to his bike, Shiro captured his chin gently. Caught off-guard for a moment, he quickly levelled him with a suspicious glare.  
_ _“What are you doing?”_

 _In reality, Shiro was trying not to internally combust over how easily Keith's jaw fit in the palm of his hand. Or how soft and warm his skin was under his fingers. Instead, he calmly plucked the clean rag off of the motorcycle seat.  
_ _“Hold still, you've got shit all over your face.”_

 _Keith's immediate reaction of course was to squirm away.  
_ _“Get off me! I'm not a baby!” he protested as Shiro tried to grip him a little more forcefully into place._

_“Don't be a pain in the ass, I'm just trying to hel—ah!!”_

_The yelp - one that Shiro was definitely going to deny making later - came out about two octaves higher than he would ever care to admit physically possible as Keith threw an elbow into his solar plexus, trying to knock him down. Briefly they wrestled, and early Shiro had the upper hand easily. But in a moment of real fear that Keith would abandon the sentiment of two minutes ago to skin him alive if he knocked over his beloved bike, Shiro found himself pinned to the floor, with 170 pounds of amateur mechanic planted firmly on his stomach._

_“Idiot,” Keith said almost fondly, before pulling the hem of Shiro's cotton shirt up to his face to wipe it clean._

_“H-hey!” he complained, furiously fighting down the electric hum that had settled under his skin. The vision of Keith above him like this was far too much for his latent feelings to handle. If he didn't get control again soon, Shiro knew his body would betray him in the worst way. But before he could think of a way to dislodge him in a way that wouldn't involve recklessly grabbing hold his hips, Keith jumped away, watching with a grin as the law student curled up to take note of the damage to his shirt._

_“Don't get that on my bike.”_

_“Really?”_  
_Shiro gave him a dry look, releasing the material. His next words left him before his mind caught up.  
“I could take it off it it bothers you so much.”_

 _Keith’s eyes widened ever so slightly, before he quickly spun on his heels to return to the bike with a scowl.  
_ _“Don't be dumb.”_

_Quickly laughing the comment off, Shiro jumped up to his feet. Keith half-heartedly shoved him off as he scruffed at his hair, returning to the other side of the bike._

_“Try to be useful,” the younger man teased, tossing the cleaning rag at Shiro’s face. “Pass me that screwdriver.”_

_The two worked in silence for hours, Shiro stealing glances at the easy smile on Keith’s lips. His love for his bike was second only to his love for space, and Shiro took joy at observing it from such close proximity. He knew to see him like this was a privilege that no one else had. And he treasured it dearly. He was loathe to interrupt it, but it had to be getting late._

_“We should wrap up, Keith.”_

_He didn’t look up. “Another thirty.”_

_Shiro leaned back with a sigh.  
_ _“Come on, surely you’re hungry.”_

_All he received in response was a shrug._

_“Okay, well_ I’m _hungry.”_

_Keith glanced up guiltily at that, putting down his tools immediately and wiping his hands on his jeans.  
"I have something stashed in the mini fridge. Give me a sec. I’ll meet you on the roof.” _

_When Shiro pulled up the roller door, he was surprised to find it was already dark outside. Keith followed him up onto the roof only a few minutes later, tossing something foil-wrapped and cold at him. Stomach growling, he ripped the foil off, biting into it indiscriminately. He gave a muffled sound of approval while Keith just shook his head with a quiet laugh, unwrapping his own parcel with a little more care._

_”Whoever came up with the idea of meatballs... in a sub... was honestly a genius.”_  
_Shiro turned his face up as if to thank the heavens for his blessed sandwich, chewing reverently._  
_“Mm... stars look beautiful tonight. You know what else is beautiful?”_

_Keith gave him a judgemental look over his own mouthful._

_“Meatball subs?” he asked, deadpan._

_“Meatball subs!” Shiro cried back._

_Keith just rolled his eyes, hiding a smile behind his sandwich._

_“Idiot.”_

* * *

The shock of sunlight told Shiro he had fallen asleep properly at some point, but a cursory glance at the clock told him it was no more than 3 hours at an optimistic guess. If he had dreamed of Keith again, or the explosion, his mind had mercifully wiped it from memory. A sharp twinge down to a fist he couldn't form reminded him he was well past time for his next dosage, powering him upright past the fog in his mind to stumble into the kitchenette where he dry swallowed two more little white pills.

Waiting for the chemicals to kick in, he headed for the bathroom and started stripping down to shower, praying the warm water would bring some relief. It was still a clumsy affair alone. He was far from mastering his tasks one-handed, but he did so with a clinical detachment, as if it wasn't his own shortened arm that he was unbandaging. He stared past the sewn skin and staples as the gauze came away, turning the hot water all the way up and stepping into the spray. His skin prickled under the temperature, mottling pink immediately, and the cut over his nose stung as though fresh. He let his head hang, water cascading in rivers down to his chin as his body started to shake and heat rose behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut tightly, fighting the sensation. Bracing his fist against the shower wall, he waited there until the medically-induced numbness finally took over.

Tying the new bandage off was an exhausting exercise, completed only by holding one end between his teeth as he pulled the other tight. It was hardly hospital-grade hygienic practice, but with limited options, at least it got the job done. Frustration had spotted his lashes wet by the time he finished, but he resolutely kept his mind on task, knowing it brought him one step closer to his investigation.

He took the opportunity to go over the case file and autopsy report again during the equally slow task of getting dressed. The moment his top button was fastened, he hastily gathered it all up, shoving the documents into a shoulder bag. He paused in his rush out the door when a flash of red caught the corner of his eye. The sight of Keith's jacket laid delicately on kitchen chair made his heart squeeze painfully. He moved to it and picked it up with infinite care, stopping still to bring the collar to his lips, closing his eyes. With a shaky breath, he gathered himself, holding tight as he continued on his path.

...

_‘Have you been here before?’_

Shiro's own question echoed in his mind as he walked the steps up to the Garrison Space Centre. It had only been five days since he had last grimly taken this journey, Pidge falling out of step beside him.

 _‘Ah… no. Of course not,’_ he heard the ghost of her voice reply. A throb went down his absent arm again.  
_'We should hurry…’_

“Hey, hold it there! Wait up!”

Shiro suppressed a curse, recognising the voice from the previous afternoon. Turning around, he saw the owner running up the stairs and steeled his tone.  
“Detective,” he greeted, clipped, as the man doubled over to catch his breath, hands on his knees.

The other man looked up with a grin, still panting.  
“Shirogane, right? One of Voltron’s for the defense today?”

“Not at this moment,” Shiro replied, trying to sound disinterested. “We decided to… go our separate ways for now.”

The man straightened but planted his hands on the back of his hips, still visibly puffed. Shiro frowned. Weren't detectives meant to maintain some level of physical fitness? This guy was absolutely hopeless.  
“Oh… Well, Prosecutor Holt did ask that you not interfere when he saw you yesterday…”

Understatement of the Universe. Holt had been livid to find a defense attorney on his - quote, unquote - crime scene. The string of insults and threats that had followed had been more than enough to drive Shiro away, still honestly a little creeped out by the iron shackles on the man's wrists. Even the surrounding officers assigned to the jailed Prosecutor had seemed uncomfortable. Shiro braced himself to defend his presence better this time.

“But I mean, I could always keep an eye on your investigation if you're here while court is in-session. All in the name of justice.” The detective tapped his nose. “What Prosecutor Holt doesn't know won't hurt him. Just don't mess with anything, otherwise I'll have you kicked out of here immediately.”

Shiro's surprise was palpable.  
“I— uh, yes of course,” he replied dumbly.  
Having a shadow during his investigation was less than ideal, but it beat being booted from the Centre for the second day in a row. Besides… Shiro was fairly sure he'd be able to lose this guy by the end of the day. He didn't strike him as particularly bright…

The detective beamed up to him none the wiser, gesturing forward.  
“Lead the way.”

...

Forty-two minutes and one furious phone call straight from the Courthouse later, Shiro found himself free to wander as he pleased. He felt an absent flood of triumph when he had heard Holt shouting down the line from his spot a good seven feet away from where the detective had been standing. Apparently Allura had found evidence that had blown the case right open, and now Holt was clawing for his own to snap it shut again. It had just been a matter of waiting silently in the background while the flustered detective had desperately tried to placate his boss, running off to search another area on his orders.

Shiro stepped quietly into Boarding Lounge One, nodding to the sole officer guarding the scene. When they made no effort to immediately remove him, Shiro cast his eyes over the room. Not much had changed since his last visit, in those first few hours after the phone call that changed his life. The holographic display on the walls was still set to a splendid and entirely fantastical view of Saturn's rings from Titan. By the stationed officer, there was a control pad that led to the corridor of Launch Pad One. But Shiro felt his eyes drawn away and down to the white tape laid out on the ground to his left.

It was a surreal feeling as he approached, trying to imagine Keith lying in the shape of the outline. He kneeled beside it, careful not to disturb the evidence, and removed his satchel from his shoulder. Wincing a little, he readjusted his sling so the remainder of his right arm rested a little more comfortably against his body.

It was quick, the coroner had told him. Keith had been barely conscious when he had arrived in the lounge, having been caught in the catastrophic explosion at the HAT-2 rocket just before launch. He had endured through physical exhaustion to carry both Kolivan and precious moon rock samples from a mission seven years prior back to safety. Whoever had buried that knife in his chest had caught him unaware, and he had been dead before he hit the ground. Small mercies, they told him.

Shiro disagreed wholeheartedly.

Keith had always been full of fire. Someone who never took no for an answer and threw himself headfirst into every challenge that came his way, no matter how bleak the odds. Given even half the chance, he would have fought. God, he would have fought. And Shiro had no doubt he could have overcome. To have his opportunity to defend his life stripped away was the cruellest reality of all.

His head whipped up when he heard the hiss of a door opening, blinking away the moisture that had sprung to his eyes. But instead of the detective, Shiro saw two figures peering into the lounge. Both wore uniforms of the Garrison Centre and the larger one appeared rather on edge as his companion scanned the room from around the corner with a shifty look. Clearly he was here to pry while the lead detective was otherwise occupied. He locked gazes with Shiro and suddenly he straightened with wide eyes, yelping when his scramble to escape was immediately thwarted by running straight into his buddy. The big guy made a similarly embarrassing noise, but didn't even stumble as Agent One of the World's Worst Spy Duo bounced off of him and onto the floor.

“Hunk…” he heard him whine.

Shiro was over to them far quicker than he had any right to be with his injuries, pulling the guy up by the scruff of his blue collar.  
“Who are you and what are you doing at the crime scene?”

Great, now he was sounding like Prosecutor Holt.

“You sound like that grumpy convict Prosecutor.”

If Shiro had a hand to spare, he would have pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Lance,” the big guy whispered behind his hand, and Shiro deduced that subtlety was clearly not a skill taught at the Garrison, “it's the guy from Keith’s desk photo. He's got an attorney’s badge too.”

Shiro's heart jolted again, deciding not to unpack that remark for now.  
“Hunk and Lance then,” he sighed, releasing Lance’s jacket.  
He cast his mind back to the profiles of the Garrison employees in his case file, drawing the names from his memory. Lance McClain, 20. Another one of the Centre’s young astronauts. A grumpy pout sullied his angular features as he fixed his short brown hair and straightened his clothes. And Hunk Garrett, also 20. Not an astronaut but a robotics engineer. A nervous but friendly face who stood almost as tall as Shiro, but with a least 50 pounds on him. He looked like he couldn't hurt a fly.  
“This area is off-limits to staff until the conclusion of the investigation. Why are you here?”

Hunk broke into a sweat instantly, eyes darting around anxiously. Taking one look at him, Lance’s expression switched to exasperated pity and he took charge.  
“Look, don't tell Chief Iverson but Robo-boy here has lost one of his Robo-kids.”

Shiro raised a skeptical eyebrow and Lance continued sheepishly, throwing up his hands.

“And yeah okay, _maybe_ I volunteered to help because it meant I could snoop around a little too. Sue me.”  
He froze then, hands still in the air, eyes fixing on the attorney’s badge on Shiro's lapel.  
“Ha… actually please don't.”

Shiro stared at him a moment, before deciding to move on without comment. He turned his attention to Hunk behind him.  
“So you lost a piece of Garrison tech and didn't tell the police?”  
He fought to keep his voice even and calm. “What's to say it's even here anyway? The culprit in this case could have intercepted it and moved it off-site.”

Hunk gulped.  
“Actually,” he pulled out a small handheld display, “all robots in the Centre are fitted with a GPS. This one is a little damaged it seems, so I can't get an accurate read, but it's definitely on this side of the centre.”  
He turned the display around to hand to Shiro.  
“See? Nothing wrong. But if Iverson finds out it's been missing then he'll tear me to shreds.”

The thought of a guy as big as Hunk cowering under the wrath of the Centre Chief was… amusing. Iverson was a man who looked like he had fought wars with his bare hands - and won - but he was a little long in the tooth, and his ambitions for space exploration gave him a bit of an eccentric vibe. Shiro knew he had been a thorn in Keith’s side at times, but was otherwise harmless, and frequently ceded to the will of the Centre’s top scientists and investors. A dog with a bark, but no bite. Shiro was curious now though. With no new real leads over the last few hours, he was willing to follow up anything.  
“In that case, let me help you find it. Have you been able to check the corridor to Launch Pad One?”  
Both men shook their heads. Shiro glanced conspiratorially toward the officer posted at the door on the other side of the room.  
“I'm going to get you past that guard.”  
He returned back to the body outline where he had left his bag, but as he stooped, a large hand crossed his vision to take hold of the strap.

“Let me.”  
Shiro saw Hunk eye his sling briefly, but his expression was kind and - relievingly - devoid of pity.  
“This way it looks like we're the ones helping you instead of the other way around.”

Shiro knew it wasn't the primary reason the engineer had taken up his bag, but he appreciated it nonetheless.  
“Good call,” he smiled, adjusting his jacket instead.  
He saw Lance’s stare as he turned, fixed suddenly on his arm as if only just seeing it for the first time.

_‘Not the most observant one then…’_

The look of abject horror was equal parts darkly humorous and nauseating. Shiro could see the question charging on his tongue.

“Follow me and don't say anything,” he intercepted quietly.

His lips snapped shut at that. Shiro thanked God for small mercies. With as much purpose as he could muster, he strode over to the officer. He steeled himself, preparing to be shut down immediately.  
_‘You can do this Shiro,’_ he told himself. ‘You make your living out of bluffing your way through tricky situations. It's just one guard...’  
But barely a dozen words and a glance at his badge and suddenly they were being waved through into the corridor.  
‘Either I'm getting good, or the Department is getting slack… Probably the latter.’  
The door closed with a soft hiss and Shiro turned to face his two new companions.  
“Right, so—"

“You're missing an arm!!”

Hunk turned a look of pure dismay onto Lance at his outburst.

“I'm sorry!” the young astronaut screeched defensively, arms flailing. “But, I mean come on! It's just… not there!”

Hunk actually looked green, obviously humiliated.  
“Lance… please…”

“It's fine,” Shiro interjected with a rueful smile.  
“There was a bombing at the Courthouse four days ago.”

“Another bombing?” Hunk breathed, wide-eyed.

“Four days!?”

Shiro nodded to Hunk, deciding ignoring Lance flat out was the most productive course of action.  
“Yes. Same as the one that went off here and stopped the launch,” he said.  “I was heading up the defence when the countdown reactivated.”  
He looked to Lance, who was now gaping openly at him.  
“Only casualty though,” he said wryly, waving the stump of his arm ever so slightly. He felt a wave of dark amusement as the astronaut responded with a muffled screech.

“You were Kolivan’s attorney…” Hunk realised. “Then that's why his case was postponed.”

Shiro peeled his eyes away from where Lance was short-circuiting.  
“It restarted today, actually.”

“Huh?” Lance had unfortunately found his voice again. “But if you were his attorney, then why are you here?”  
He blinked, deciding to amend.  
“Actually scrap that, why aren't you in hospital?!”

Shiro felt his usually enduring patience starting to run thin.  
“Long story,” he said, voice clipped.

“Keith,” Hunk said quietly, understanding.

Shiro swallowed through the tightness in his throat.  
“... Let's find this robot of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!
> 
> Finally we're doing some investigating. Tags have been updated. On that note, I definitely tagged this with "Courtroom drama" far too optimistically early. It will come... eventually... 
> 
> I'm going to be taking a short break from writing so I can enjoy my holidays with my family. In the meantime, feel free as always to chat to me on tumblr at justicelawoffices.


	4. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tale of hopes and revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note before we start...
> 
> For the non-Ace Attorney fans, I just want to take a quick minute to explain the game and it's… inconsistencies with real life. While the tone of the series is often goofy and dramatic, there's a little bit of underlying commentary about a critically under-resourced and flawed Japanese judicial system, particularly with regard to how cases have been historically stacked unfairly against an accused defendant. The mechanics of a three-day trial and the often bizarrely exaggerated interpretations of various aspects of the system such as the statute of limitations and evidence law are reflective of that. 
> 
> Obviously, some of this commentary has become outdated since Phoenix Wright was released in 2001 (Japan abolished the statute of limitations for serious crimes such as murder in 2010, and despite the overworked courts there has NEVER been a trial time limit), but the game mechanics remain. As such, when you come across these in the chapter below, don't take it as an accurate interpretation of how the legal system operates - in Japan, the US or anywhere else in the world. As someone who studied law (albeit not criminal law!) I can safely say this is not meant to be educational at all. It's fiction, it's drama, and it's all just a little bit of fun.

_Shiro was still staring at his laptop's screen, browser open to a blank tab. On the tabletop, his phone buzzed consistently with dozens of the same message from different senders._

          Bar results are up!

_The first had come through over an hour ago. And still he was none the wiser to his fate. His phone was still open to Keith's contact, several messages on display from the last fifty minutes._

           **Starboy  
**           bar today?  
          hav u looked at ur results?  
          how did u go??  
          shiro?????  
          where r u?  
          ur starting to worry me...  
          i told the centre its an emergency  
          im coming over  
          u better be home!!!!!!

 **Me  
** Sorry… Yeah, I’m here. Let yourself in.           

_Shiro barely registered the sound of keys and the telltale click of the latch of his front door, eyes still fixed unseeing on his computer. Keith’s sigh however cut through him like a knife. When Shiro looked up, he was leaning against the doorframe. He expected exasperation, but the expression he found instead was soft and uncertain._

_“Hey.”_

_Shiro felt the world start turning again.  
__“Hey,” he parroted quietly._  

 _Keith just stood there a moment, clearly wondering how to proceed. He shifted uncomfortably._  
_“Have you…?”_  
_He gestured vaguely and Shiro looked back to his screen._

 _“No… not yet.”_  

 _Keith visibly relaxed and rolled his eyes, pushing off from the door and pulling it shut behind him.  
_ _“Just how long have you been sitting here staring into space then?”_

 _His voice was fond and Shiro couldn't help but chuckle weakly in response.  
__“Too long?”_  

_“Obviously,” Keith smirked, moving to the desk to nudge Shiro's chair with his hip. Shiro sat back as he leaned forward, watching him pull up the website for the Californian Bar results list. He clicked on the surname field in the search bar, typing out carefully._

          Shirogane

 _He hovered over the enter key.  
__“Ready?”_  

 _Hardly. Shiro was about three seconds away from having a complete nervous breakdown.  
_ _“... I can't look.”_

_Keith’s lips tightened and Shiro could tell he was putting every effort into not calling him out on his bullshit. It wasn't often that Shiro lost his composure, and he could tell it made Keith uncomfortable in the extreme. He understood just how pivotal this moment was for him though, and so he didn't snap or sigh at him, simply turning the screen away to face himself squarely. Shiro pushed back in his chair as Keith tapped once at his keyboard, looking up to the ceiling and running a nervous hand through his fringe. He heard Keith give a soft “hmph" to signal the search results had come back._

_“The following names on the pass list match your search for Shirogane,” he read aloud, turning the screen back around with a smug look._

_Shiro shot forward, eyes frantic._

          Last Name       First Name  
          SHIROGANE     TAKASHI

_“I passed?”_

_Keith laughed at the disbelief on his face.  
_ _“Of course you passed, idiot! Did you really think you wouldn't?”_

 _“Oh god, I passed… I passed!”  
_ _He stood, sweeping Keith into a bear hug that had both his feet off the floor._

 _“Okay, okay Mister Hotshot Lawyer. Can we keep all of my ribs intact please?”  
_ _Keith still laughed though and for a moment, caught up, Shiro almost kissed his cheek before he remembered what a terrible, terrible idea that would be. Quickly, carefully, he set him back down again, silently pleading with the heat in his face to cooperate and fade away before it was noticed. He was given respite when his phone buzzed again and Keith’s attention was drawn away._

 _“Who else have you been ignoring this afternoon, huh?”_  

 _Shiro frowned, but then quickly swiped up the device, seeing the number 27 in red above his messages icon.  
__“Ah, it's some of my classmates,” he explained sheepishly as he scrolled through the unread messages. “Looks like a few of them want to have a party to celebrate. A guy I shared Law and Ethics with is being particularly insistent about trashing his family’s mansion.”_  

 _Keith stared thoughtfully for a moment.  
__“You should go,” he said._  

 _Shiro smiled, still flicking through the last of his messages.  
_ _“I'd rather celebrate with you.”_

_“Then take me with you.”_

_He froze to blink at Keith in surprise, saying the first dumb thing that came to mind.  
__“You hate parties.”_  

 _Keith shrugged nonchalantly, but he looked away a little too quickly and Shiro could have sworn there was a flash of embarrassment on his face.  
__“I don't hate them if it's for you.”_  

 _Shiro was still in idiot-mode, staring in unmasked disbelief.  
_ _“... You're sure?” and Keith heaved an annoyed sigh. “Okay, okay two ticks I'll reply now.”_

 **Me  
** Bringing a plus one.              

 **Lotor (L &E302)**  
          [Lotor is typing…]  
          Excellent - see you at 9.

* * *

Shiro watched over Hunk's shoulder with mild interest. The jumble of letters and numbers he was tweaking on the screen made absolutely no sense to him at all. He wondered if Pidge had had a chance to talk to Hunk during the investigation. With her love for her odd little technical assistant Rover, he was sure the two of them would hit it off immediately. Shiro often wondered why she had studied law when it was clear she had such an affinity for robotics. Maybe she could have worked here too, alongside Keith and Hunk and Lance. He liked to think if life were a little different and Voltron hadn't brought them together, perhaps they would have met through Keith anyway.

A rapid beep drew him from his thoughts and Lance straightened from his slouch on the ground as Hunk gave a little cheer.

“Finally?” the astronaut in training asked.

Hunk nodded.  
“I've established a connection with its signal,” he said, still typing frantically. “I'll see if I can input a command and…” 

All three looked up as a metallic rattle came from the end of the corridor, closer to the launch pad. Lance frowned, jumping to his feet.  
“The suit lockers?”  
He shot down ahead of them, trying to wedge open the shaking metal door, in spite of the keypad in plain view.  
“It's Keith's,” he explained as he braced a foot against the frame, pulling at the handle uselessly.  
“I've got no idea what his code is.” 

“I don't think that's particularly going to help,” Shiro said with a raised eyebrow. “How many digits is the code?”

“Six,” Hunk provided. “And I know what your first guess will be, but it won't be his birthdate. Goes against security protocol.”

Shiro paused thoughtfully, before stepping forward to Lance.  
“May I?”

The younger man lowered his leg sheepishly, moving aside to allow Shiro to crouch down to the keypad. Keith would have never used his birthday as his code anyway. He didn't hold much fondness for the date or the celebration that came with it. But that didn't mean he wasn't sentimental in other ways. Maybe... 

0-2…

“Good luck,” Lance said flippantly.

…-2-9…

“I could never figure out that guy’s deal. The whole, ‘I’m Keith. I'm dark and brooding. My whole life is a mystery.’ Pfft.”

…-9-2

“I think he used to play it cool with me since we were rivals and all. You know how it is when—” a light flashed green and the lock clicked, “woah, what the cheese? Did you get that on your first go? What kind of super sleuth are you?”

Lance actually looked impressed, which turned Shiro's annoyance into embarrassment.  
“It was  _my_ birthday,” he said quietly.  
He straightened and turned an amused look onto Lance. “Rivals, huh?” he asked, before he could hyperfixate on the fact that Keith had literally made him his security… as far as Garrison codes were concerned anyway.

“Oh yeah, we were like neck-and-neck during testing,” Lance bragged, totally void of humility. “It was pretty much a toss of the coin for the mission. Pure luck he got the spot over me.”

Shiro didn’t feel his bracelet constrict on his wrist; clearly Lance believed he was telling the truth. He wasn't about to break his heart by bringing up the fact that Keith had never once mentioned his name to him, but he was pretty sure he spied an eye-roll from Hunk. Ignorance was bliss, apparently.

Another rattle from the locker interrupted them, and Shiro instinctively took a step back. He tried to convince himself he wasn't nervous as he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.  
“Ah Hunk, since this is your domain, I'll let you do the honours." 

Hunk didn't utter a word, but Shiro could see the amused smile on his face as he moved past him to open the locker. Immediately, they were greeted by the sound of excited beeping.

**_“Master Hunk!”_ **

The sound was electronic, but clear nonetheless.

“Beezer!” Hunk cried in relief, actually hugging the waist-high unit as it rolled out of the locker. Little pointed… ears - Shiro had no other way to describe them - wiggled in response. It was clear that the joyful feeling was somehow mutual.  
“Oh I was so worried about you! Are you hurt?” 

Lance scoffed and Hunk threw daggers at him.

 **“** ** _My online systems require physical repairs and there is cosmetic damage to my visual display, but I am otherwise functional._** **”**  

“There you go Hunk. No need to worry. Robo-kid survives.”

The robot’s head swivelled at his voice, chirping happily.  
**“** ** _Master Lance!_** **”**  Green LED eyes fixed onto Shiro from behind cracked glass in turn.  **“** ** _... and Master Keith! It is good to see you both! My logs prior to going offline suggest there was a large explosion at the Center. I was very worried about your safety._** **”**  

Shiro felt his heart drop like lead at Beezer’s incorrect address.  
“A-ah… actually we haven't met yet... Beezer.”  
He swallowed, throat tight, right arm starting to ache again. “I'm not Keith. My name is Shiro.” 

“It's the jacket,” Lance said solemnly, as Beezer’s eyes lit up yellow in a design clearly meant to emote confusion.  
“It's Keith's, right?” 

Shiro realised that perhaps he hadn't given the astronaut enough credit. He was much more observant than he seemed. Still a little shaken, he just nodded.

“Beezer, make a new entry for Shiro as a visitor. And mark Keith…” Shiro saw Lance glance at him as he paused. He dreaded the words that would come out of his mouth next. “... mark Keith for iris recognition only. Shiro’s going to be wearing his jacket for a little while.” 

Shiro let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as the robot confirmed the directive, chirping happily again.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. Lance just shrugged, as if trying to pretend the gesture wasn't as thoughtful as it had been. Deciding not to embarrass the both of them, Shiro turned his focus back to Hunk.  
“This is a pretty impressive robot you've made,” he said, steadying his pulse and feeling the pain in his arm recede again.  
“I can see why you were so anxious to find it.” 

Hunk beamed, pulling tools from his belt and crouching down to begin unscrewing a dented panel on the robot's side.  
“Thanks, but I can't take credit. I'm really just the maintenance man when it comes to this guy.” 

At Shiro’s confusion, Beezer chimed in.  
**“** ** _My creator was Doctor Samuel Holt!_ ** **”**  it said cheerfully.  **“** ** _He made me almost eight years ago. He's gone now,_** **”**  and briefly the LED eyes flickered a dark blue,  **“** ** _but Master Hunk keeps my software updated and my appearance shiny and new!_ ** **”**

“Samuel Holt…” Shiro repeated. “The scientist who was murdered here just before the launch seven years ago?” 

“Bit before our time, but yeah,” Hunk confirmed. 

“We’ve heard the stories though,” Lance chimed in. “About how there was a huge explosion at the HAT-1 launch pad. At least the rocket made it off the ground back then. Re-entry would have been pretty shit though. Apparently half the heat shields got obliterated in the blast. Can you imagine knowing  _that_ the whole time you're up there just circling around Earth? Just floating round and round and round, waiting for the guys on the ground to come up with a solution they'll never think of until you start running out of food and things to do. Just you by yourself slowly going mad.”  
  
The astronaut was sounding more unhinged the longer he spoke. Shiro was starting to understand another reason why Keith might have beaten him to the HAT-2 mission spot.  
  
“I mean, what could they do; it's not like you can send up a repairman four hundred kilometres into the sky. ‘Hello! I'm the dial-a-rocket-guy you called in? Here to just patch up your old space machine there.’ Kolivan probably didn't know if he would boil alive on the back do—"  
Hunk interrupted his rambling by shoving Beezer’s panel back with a little more force than necessary and with a loud metallic clunk, making both Lance and Shiro jump.  
“Anyway,” he continued sheepishly, “once the chaos settled, one of the ground control officials found Doctor Holt’s son, Matthew— uh, Prosecutor Holt, drenched in blood, trying to slip away.”

Hunk straightened and tucked his tools back into his belt, giving Shiro his full attention again.  
“They performed a citizen’s arrest right there just based on how scary he looked. It wasn't until after they found Doctor Holt’s body in his robotics lab.” 

“Blood everywhere!” Lance interjected theatrically, gesturing wildly with his arms. Shiro was starting to get the sense that this was a dramatic retelling. Perhaps he would need to consult with someone a little closer to the situation a bit later on.  
“Picture it: the doc just laid out on the chair they use to repair the robots,” he slammed his fist into his hand, “the knife still stuck in his chest.”

It was definitely a dramatic retelling.

“Blood everywhere - did I say that already - anyway, blood just  _everywhere_. On everything. The chair, the floor, the moon rock samples the doc was working on. Probably the ceiling too. Only a truly cold-blooded murderer would be so callous about leaving a scene like that!” 

“The worst bit is apparently when they found him, he had his half-conscious sister in his arms.”  
Hunk shuddered and Shiro felt his stomach turn. 

_‘Sister?... Prosecutor Holt has a…’_

“She was only ten or eleven. Who knows what he was going to do to her next?” 

Lance scratched his chin absently.  
“It's a real pity the bots in the lab were all powered down. They probably could have caught it all.”  
Hunk shot him a surprisingly withering look, enough to make Lance quickly retract and amend.  
“For evidence, I mean. If I wanted to watch a slasher-horror show I'd hit up Netflix, man. Not that they really needed any extra evidence. That guy had his fingerprints all over the knife and he was  _covered_ in—" 

“Yes, yes, covered in blood,” Hunk said greenly. “We get it Lance, can we please just… stop talking about it. It's making me queasy.” 

Shiro's eyes were still fixed on Lance, but his focus was distant, unseeing. It was a long shot, but could the two incidents, seven years apart, be related somehow? Was there some mystery unsolved from that case to blow Keith’s wide open? It was a tiny, delicately thin thread, but Shiro was reaching out to latch on for dear life. 

“What happened to the little sister?”

Lance shrugged.  
“No idea.” 

“Witness protection maybe?” Hunk offered. “After her brother was thrown into prison, she had no family left. The poor kid was probably traumatised. Iverson used to say he was still haunted by her screams in the courtroom. She insisted that Matthew had done nothing wrong. They had to forcibly drag her away after the verdict apparently.”  
He sighed, shaking his head.  
“Can you imagine that? Loving your brother so much you can't see what a monster he is?”

“Hunk’s just bummed he never got to meet her,” Lance teased, nudging his friend. “She wouldn't have been much younger than us, and apparently she was a real tech-whiz as a kid.” 

Shiro wasn’t really listening now. He could sense something imminent and heavy creeping over him, prickling at his skin and shooting fresh pain down his arm. Unaware, Hunk was blushing, shoving Lance off half-heartedly.  
“Purely from an intellectual point of view. You're the one who makes a pass at anything remotely feminine and breathing. Scratch that -  _moving_. I saw you flirt with Beezer once.” 

“Slander!”

“Guys!”   
Shiro felt a little bad for raising his voice, but a sick and anxious feeling was pooling in his stomach, and suddenly time was the enemy. Every second that passed was like another hammer blow to the final nail in the coffin of this case. He forced his lungs to operate evenly, but there was little he could do to stop the sweat forming at the back of his neck and his phantom fingers clenching tightly.  
“Lance, you said something about the robots recording the footage around them. 

“I said they  _didn't_  record the lab,” he corrected, holding poor Hunk in a headlock. 

Shiro fought down the irritation that surged through him, reaching for patience.  
“No, I mean… Hunk,” the engineer ceased his struggling to look up as he was addressed, “if Beezer is capable of recording its surroundings, is there any chance there's footage from the time of the explosion?” 

Hunk's eyes widened and he suddenly brushed Lance off almost lazily, who yelped in surprise as he stumbled away. Apparently he hadn't been struggling all that hard after all.  
“I mean… maybe? Nothing was uploaded into the cloud since the online systems were damaged, but there's every chance Beezer stored surveillance in its internal memory while it waited to come online.”  
He placed a large hand on the robot’s head, its ears quirking rather like a puppy.  
“Beezer, have you got any surveillance files from before you went offline?” 

“ _Searching._ ”  
The robot's eyes transformed into a spinning wheel and Shiro found himself holding his breath as they blinked green again.  
“ _Four audio visual files found_ ,” it chirped happily. “ _Would you like me to copy to an external drive?_ ” 

“Yes!” Shiro blurted.  
He didn't want to start fanning a flicker of hope too soon, but already his heart was racing ahead.  
“Please. If possible, please. There's a memory bank in my bag if that will work.” 

Hunk nodded, digging around into the satchel he had taken from Shiro back at the lounge.

“What are you doing?” Lance hissed. “It's against Garrison policy to just hand out data to visitors.” 

“It's against police instruction for you to be in this corridor,” Shiro shot back coldly. 

The two exchanged stubborn glares, and Shiro wondered if he could fight Lance off with one hand if he stood in his way. Hunk glanced between the stand off, but didn't hesitate in retrieving the hard drive.  
“It's for Keith,” he said quietly.  
Shiro felt his chest thud and his snarl retreat immediately.  
“He was our friend. And no matter how bad some of us are at showing it,” he said, looking pointedly at a suddenly cowed Lance, “we cared a lot for him. He didn't deserve this.” 

Shiro stood in silence for a moment, confused when both men hastily looked away. Then, to his horror, he felt something warm and wet trail down his cheek. He quickly moved to busy himself with checking Keith’s open locker, discreetly wiping at his eyes.

“ ** _Transferring files_** **.** ”

A soft glint caught his eye at the back of the top shelf. He wiped his hand on his black vest and reached forward, fingers closing around something round and cold. And all of a sudden, Shiro felt a powerful flood of relief for the police department's complete ineptitude at failing to investigate the astronaut’s lockers. Having this tied up in evidence for days… weeks… years, would have cleaved him in two. He turned the ring over in his palm, far too small for any of his fingers, tiny sapphires and diamonds sprinkled around the band like stars. He closed his fist around it tight again. He was already toeing a dangerous line with acquiring evidence. What was one more small interference? 

A loud buzz startled him out of his musings.

“ ** _File four of four corrupted._** ”  
Beezer’s eyes were emoting frustration in red.

Shiro whipped around at that. Judging by the way Lance took an immediate step back, the hysteria he felt was clearly written into his expression.  
“What does that mean?” 

“Transfer over anyway, Beezer.”  
Hunk’s look was sympathetic.  
“Just relax, okay? I can probably fix the file once I have it on a screen.” 

Nausea still curled in his gut, but he nodded. He  _needed_ that file, he knew it instinctually. If Hunk couldn't restore it, then maybe they would never learn the truth. Maybe they would never learn why. What if the murderer walked free?

Keith's face, bruised and unearthly pale, surfaced in his mind. The world was going to forget. Shiro was letting him slip out of existence with every moment her failed to find answers. His lips, once rosy, smiling, now set flat blue and cool. His violet eyes fused shut forever under sallow lids. The sheet that covered him to the waist, and the gaping, blackened wound over his heart... 

“Hey man, still with us?”   
The sound was warbled and distant, calling from the surface while he was trapped underwater. The pressure was crushing his chest. He wanted to breathe… 

“I think he's having a panic attack or something. Don't you help Kolivan when he's like this?!” 

“Okay, hang on, hang on, just let me think.”  
Shiro felt weight come down on his shoulders.  
“Shiro? Can you hear me? I want you to focus on my voice, okay?”  
Shiro blinked, and with a swirl, another face appeared before him. Lance. A small smile crossed the astronaut’s face.  
“Much better already. I need you to humour me for a moment. Can you wiggle your toes?” 

 _‘Strange,’_  Shiro frowned internally, but he complied, feeling the ground beneath his feet again.

Lance glanced down and grinned.  
“Awesome. Next breath, I want you to hold it for as long as possible.” 

He barely lasted a second, suddenly realising he was wheezing. It wasn't that he couldn't breathe. He was hyperventilating.

_'I can't...'_

“Keep trying.” 

It was like fighting against a vice, but he tried again and again and again until the tension eased and he felt some of his control returning, drawing in more air with each inhale. The swimming of his vision was slowly giving way to sharper focus. It made him feel like he was going to throw up. 

“Find something to center on. Something to ground you. Something you can see or hear or feel.”

Shiro's eyes darted around desperately and he clenched his fist. Something resisted against his palm.  

The ring! Keith’s ring, still held safely. He wouldn't let it out of his sight now he had it back.

He tightened his grip, bringing his fist to his mouth.  
“I'm sorry,” he rasped. “I'm sorry, I’m fine. I really am. I just…” 

“Happens to the best of us,” Lance brushed off not unkindly as Beezer whirred in concern.  
“But Hunk has you covered. That file will be restored in no time.”  
The follow up shoulder pat was… awkward, and despite himself, Shiro chuckled weakly. 

“Yeah… yeah I'm sure it will,” he said. He lifted his chin, drawing himself up a little again.  
“Thanks Lance.” 

Lance’s face flamed as he mumbled something to the tune of “no big deal,” waving his hand in a gesture that was by far the least nonchalant thing Shiro had ever seen in his life. He had hardly had the chance to pull himself together properly when the doors to the lounge opened with a hiss. 

“Ah! There you are!!” 

 _Shit._  

Shiro forced himself into a final facade of calm, turning on his heel to face the lead detective as he marched down toward them. He fixed a smile on his face, opening his mouth to spin whatever story he needed to explain their presence in the corridor.  
“No, no, not you Mr Shirogane,” the detective laughed. “I need the engineer. Garrett!” 

Hunk's eyes were bugging out of his head.  
“Me?” he squeaked. 

“Nothing serious, I promise!” the detective said cheerfully. “Just some standard questions about the case.”

 _‘No, no, no! What about my file?”_  

Beezer chimed next to Hunk, turning green eyes onto the detective.  
**“** ** _Hello, RECORD NOT FOUND_** **.”**  

Shiro jumped at the sudden change in tone, far more grating as the robot spat out the error. Lance thumped it on the head with his fist.

“Stupid hunk of junk, you're meant to ask for someone's name if you don't have it on file.” 

 **“** ** _CENTRAL_**   ** _RECORD DELETED_** **.”**  

“Eh?! What is your issue?” 

The detective eyed the robot with a degree of caution. Shiro didn't blame him for perhaps being a little afraid in the face of what suddenly appeared to be demonically-possessed tech.

“A-ah, this must be one of the Garrison’s robots,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I haven't seen this one yet. Best bring it with us then for evidence.”

“Oh… okay.”   
Hunk looked like he was being led to the gallows as he started forward, handing Shiro's satchel over to him.   
“Here you go Mr Shirogane. Guess I won't be able to carry your stuff for you any longer.”  
He maintained a strange kind of eye contact with him, before glancing down to the bag. Shiro realised he must have already slipped the drive back into the bag without notice. Clever.  
“Follow me Beezer. We’ll have to fix you up in your chair later...” 

But Shiro felt his stomach sink. It wasn't just the loss of Hunk. Something… something just didn't feel quite right.  
“Why are you taking employees in for questioning now?” he asked suddenly.  
“The three-day trial limit is up tomorrow for Kolivan. Did you manage to get an extension?” 

The detective glanced to Shiro, surprised.  
“Not at all! He was found not guilty this afternoon.” An anxious dread stopped Shiro from celebrating prematurely. “We made another arrest today.” 

“Who?” Lance asked. 

“Ooh, very nosey! I guess it can't be helped. You'll hear about it sooner or later. Might as well be now.” 

Shiro's throat went dry. 

“Her name is Katie Holt.” 

Hunk and Lance’s jaws both dropped in perfect union. 

“Holt?” 

“Holt?! Prosecutor Holt’s—" 

“Mm, his little sister, yeah.”  
Shiro watched in silence as the detective tapped a gloved finger to his lip.  
“He's not too happy about it. Flew off the handle really. She's been charged on suspicion of the murder from seven years ago too. Reeeally didn’t like that one. Bailiffs had to pretty much wrestle him back to his cell after all the commotion he caused.” The detective heaved a sigh at that, as if disappointed. “And after I worked so hard finding those fingerprints on the murder weapon too. You'd think he'd be thankful for a chance to clear his name before they carry out his sentence with the hangman...”

Shiro felt his blood chill in his veins. Fingerprints… on the knife that killed Keith. That was rather damning evidence.  
“The… statute of limitations though. For the old HAT-1 incident. It must be running out—" 

“Tomorrow, actually!” the detective interjected, too cheerfully. It made Shiro feel ill. “It's going to be a monster day at court to get it tied up in time. Two charges settled in one day, phew! Chief Prosecutor Romelle will be taking over as lead from Prosecutor Holt, of course. Conflict of interest and all.”

 _‘Oh so_ now  _they're worried about that?!’_

“Anyway, lots to do. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around. Off to the station we go, Mr Garrett. Until next time, Mr Shirogane!” 

Hunk shot the two of them a helpless look, and then he was gone.

For a moment, there was silence, then, “wait! Why wasn't I taken in for questioning? Especially since...” Lance trailed off with a pout.

“Count your lucky stars, Lance,” Shiro said, shouldering his bag, wincing as his nerves pricked and protested. His mind was running a mile a minute: the verdict, the new arrest, the corrupted file… If this was going to have to play out in full tomorrow, then he had a lot of ground to cover.  
“Let's go. We need to find out what has happened in court today.” 

“We?”  
The hopeful look on the astronaut's face was borderline pathetic. Shiro found himself smiling. 

“Yeah. Come on. We both want answers, right?”

Lance only nodded dumbly in reply, letting Shiro lead the way out. A run-in with Director Iverson proved fruitless, only serving to reaffirm the facts of the case from seven years ago. There was no sign of his Voltron colleagues anywhere. The impending doom that had been haunting Shiro all afternoon suddenly felt heavy and tangible.

By the time he spotted Kolivan, dazed but free in the foyer of the Garrison, the feeling had settled in a strangely comfortable way in his chest. Somehow, he already knew what he was going to say before the words came out. 

“Shiro… they arrested Pidge.”

* * *

_How was it physically - and financially - possible for one house to be so large? Whoever had the mortgage on this place must have had control over half the universe to provide security for the bank. Shiro swore under his breath again, stumbling past old classmates on the stairs. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and Shiro was in full panic mode. Twenty-six minutes. That was how long it had been since he had last seen Keith._

_He had been coaxing him to dance, lubricated by a few beers and at least two shots of whiskey, pulling at Shiro's hands. And God, hadn't it been a sight. An intoxicated smile, shoulders loose, eyes dreamy. Shiro was still trying to understand why his muddled brain insisted he needed to find a bathroom first. By the time he had been held up by a commiserating classmate wailing about her bar failure in the hallway, he had been gone for far longer than he intended. When he reached the edge of the living room-cum-dance floor, a new bottle in hand, he stopped short. This was where he had left Keith, right? This house was so stupidly huge, it was entirely possible he had managed to get lost on his way back. He stepped in further and scanned the faces in the room. No, that was definitely the same upturned table, the same liquor-fill vase. He felt his heart stop for just half a second… then take off at an anxious speed._

_Suddenly the heavy bass thrumming through the soles of his boots was making him feel ill. The bodies around him were oppressive and suffocating. Keith hated parties, and Shiro had managed to lose him in the biggest party this side of the Hills._

_He searched methodically through the upper floors, scouring the balcony and looking down to the pool deck below. He found himself apologising more times than his nerve could handle after interrupting at least half a dozen couples and what he was sure was one potential orgy behind bedroom doors._

‘Who needs this many beds in one house anyway?’  _he grumbled internally, still fighting a flush at catching one of his professors in a rather compromising position with an old classmate._

_He stopped short, hearing a low chuckle from the end of an otherwise relatively quiet corridor._

_“No, but really… I think I should get back...”_

_“Nonsense,” a honeyed voice replied._

_And without a second thought, Shiro rushed forward._

_A large kitchen came into view, extravagant and decked in chrome. At the centre, sitting on an island bench and leaning back on his arms, was Keith. If he had been tipsy when Shiro had left him, he was blind now, listing to one side and hair dishevelled. By his hand, an empty crystal decanter was balancing dangerously on the table’s edge. His eyes were unfocused as he looked up to the man that crowded over him and stood between his legs. Long platinum hair pulled back into a half ponytail identified him to Shiro. Neither had seemed to notice him. Perfectly manicured fingers were gripping Keith’s knee, pushing his legs further apart, while the other offered him a glass of something caramel-coloured and strong, if the crinkle of his nose was anything to go by._

_Shiro immediately saw red._

_Within three strides, he had ripped away the hand that dared to touch his friend. Hazy golden eyes widened in surprise as the man was turned around, but the expression relaxed into a charming smile._

_“Shirogane, I didn't hear—"_

_He never finished his sentence, Shiro's fist colliding sloppily with his jaw in a blow that floored him at once._

_“What the fuck do you think you're doing, Lotor?”_

_Lotor stared up to him in a fierce mix of surprise and rage as he held his face, lip split and bleeding._

_“What the fuck do you think_ you're  _doing?”_

 _Even cursing, he still managed to sound annoyingly smooth and refined. Shiro wasn't sure he'd ever been so furious in his life. By nature, he was a patient and understanding man, never one to act before giving full consideration to the situation. But something about the sight of someone's hands on Keith, pushing him further when he was already drunk out of his mind, sent a horrible heat through his veins that he couldn't contain. Beside him, blissfully unaware, he heard Keith mewl his name happily, hands reaching out._ > _“Don't ever touch Keith again,” he snarled, eyes remaining fixed threateningly on Lotor as he helped the younger man down from the bench. He stumbled full-bodied into him and Shiro caught him by the waist as he giggled — actually giggled. He was far worse than Shiro had feared._

_"Don't come near him or I'll make you regret it.”_

_He led Keith away and out into the hallway, carefully navigating the discarded cups and bottles as they took the stairs down to the lower floor where Shiro could assess the damage away from Lotor. The giggling had stopped about three quarters of the way down the stairs, and instead now Keith's head was lolling back, eyes closed. Shiro wasn't sure whether it was more unnerving, smoothing his fringe away from his eyes, before focusing on their feet again to make sure they didn't fall down the last few steps._

_“Shiro,” Keith all but whined then, sagging into his hold._

_“Mm?” Shiro tried to steady his racing heart, still playing over the kitchen scene in his head over and over like a scratched record. “What is it, Supernova?”_

_The reply came back in a mumble. “Feel sick…”_

_And suddenly Shiro was back to his senses. “Shit okay, okay, hold that thought for just one second, alright?”_

_With little regard for any of the other partygoers around them, Shiro cleared their path with a one track mind. By the time they reached the bathroom, Keith had already clamped his hand to his mouth and was starting to double over._

_“Out,” Shiro ordered rudely to the girls sitting on the bathtub, lowering Keith to his knees in front of the toilet. They glared at him, but quickly scattered when Keith started making his best velociraptor impressions into the bowl. Shiro kicked the door closed and settled down behind him with a sigh, tucking his hair behind his ears with tender fingers._

_“Well, at least I know what my first case is going to be now. I’ll be defending myself over the justifiable murder of Lotor after tonight. Just how much did he give you?”_

_Keith only moaned in response._

_“I know, I’m sorry. Not helpful.” Shiro sighed, rubbing his back soothingly. “This my fault. I knew you hate parties and still I said yes.”_

_Keith shook his head ever so slightly, and Shiro had to quickly right him as the motion made him sway.  
_ _“I wanted to come,” he mumbled. “You passed your bar.”_

 _Shiro felt a rush of affection and guilt swallow him up whole.  
_ _“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have left you on your own in a room of people you don’t know. I’m a shitty friend.”_

_Keith vocalised something that sounded like a disagreement, pushing himself back to sit on his calves. Shiro stood and hastily cleaned one of the discarded plastic cups on the sink, filling it with tap water. He stood over Keith, letting him lean back against his thighs._

_“Rinse and spit,” he instructed, holding the cup to his lips. He complied without complaint, then downed the rest of the cup while Shiro reached for the toilet paper. With a hand to his forehead, he tilted Keith’s head up to him, wiping his lips and chin clean. Violet eyes bored into him, albeit still a little unfocused._

_“All done?” Shiro asked, tossing the paper and flushing the toilet._

_The hand on Keith’s forehead rose to card his fingers through his sweaty fringe. He tried not to think about how sweet he looked, staring up to him wide-eyed from the tiles as he nodded in reply._

‘You just wiped vomit off of his face, Takashi. Get it together.’

_“Ready to get up then?”_

_Keith swivelled clumsily on the spot, reaching both hands up in a rather pathetic display. Tension broken for a moment, Shiro laughed, leaning down with the intention of hoisting him up from under his arms. But it seemed Keith had other ideas, and suddenly there were hands hooked tightly around the back of his neck. It only escalated as he straightened, when the other boy kicked his feet off the ground to wrap his legs around his waist._

_“W-woah there Starboy,” he said, somehow managing to catch his palm on wall to stop him from careening headfirst into a total knockout. “You trying to kill me here?”_

_He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the close-call concussion when Keith pressed his face into the join of his neck and shoulder, feeling his brain completely short-circuit. He started to sag and in a moment of panic, Shiro hooked his hands under his thighs to hoist him back into place and yep, he could see that blush spreading across his cheeks in the bathroom mirror. Shiro just hoped Keith wouldn’t feel the heat of it in his skin where he had pressed himself close._

_“Carry me,” he murmured and Shiro gave a nervous laugh._

_“I think we’re already there.”_

_Keith hummed happily and Shiro looked up to the ceiling as if seeking guidance. Or a healthy dose of divine smiting from whatever God was responsible for the bullshit he endured while nursing this terrible crush. He took a steadying breath, fighting his embarrassment back down._

_“Okay, fresh air then? Want me to take you home?”_

_“But your party,” Keith whined in a way that didn't deserve to be half as endearing as it was._

_Shiro grinned helplessly._  
_“Wasn’t that great anyway.”_  
_He pointedly ignored the stares as he opened the door, adjusting his hold to protect the back of his head as he pushed back through the drunken mess that was LA’s freshest batch of qualified lawyers._  
_“Just don’t make me carry you all the way home.”_

_Nine blocks and at least four ignored cabs later, Keith was still wrapped around Shiro’s body. He wouldn’t travel well at this stage, and the cool midnight breeze would help him sober up quicker, Shiro reasoned. It definitely had nothing to do with the sound of Keith breathing softly in his ear, or the way his heartbeat pressed insistently against his own as he walked. Shiro felt a tingle rush down his spine as fingertips brushed the short hairs at the back of his neck._

_“Warm…” Keith murmured nonsensically into his skin. “So good and warm and kind.”_

_And then, “I love you.”_

_Shiro stumbled, almost twisting his ankle in an effort not to launch both of them into the pavement. He recovered with another nervous laugh, but his chest felt suddenly tight, like Keith was squeezing his legs too tightly around his body.  
_ _“Uh, love you too, buddy,” he said, and winced. Because that wasn’t even the half of it._

 _He felt Keith frown against his neck.  
_ _“Not like that though…”_

_Shiro stopped still at that and Keith looked up with sleepy eyes._

_“What?”_

_Shiro worked his mouth open, then snapped it closed again, swallowing. He could do it. He could say everything out here now. It was just the two of them and the alcohol had fired him with a little more courage than he would otherwise have. Against his ribs, his heart was making deals with the devil, begging loudly with every thump._

_But Keith was drunk, and maybe he didn’t know what he was saying. What was more, Shiro would hate to think that he had taken advantage of his current state in any way by goading him into something further, especially after what had happened with Lotor. He hated to think that tomorrow Keith might wake up wholly humiliated by the entire situation. And if he didn’t remember any of this in the morning… well, that sat uncomfortably with Shiro for a whole myriad of reasons too. So he just smiled down to him, shaking his head._

_“Nothing. We’re almost at your apartment. Keep holding tight, okay?”_

_Keith’s eyes fluttered shut and he nodded, resting his head back on his shoulder again. With a smothered sigh, Shiro gently hoisted him up again, continuing their path._

_By the time they reached the stairs, Shiro was exhausted. But judging by the soft snoring in his ear, Keith had fallen asleep not even two minutes after his little earth-shattering declaration. He didn’t have it in him to wake him up. So, quads protesting, he hauled ass up five flights of stairs, Keith a deadweight on his hips. Focusing very intently on the door, Shiro fished the keys to the flat out of Keith’s back pocket, trying not to linger a moment longer than necessary out of sheer embarrassment. But after almost a full minute of trying to juggle his unconscious bundle one-handed and unlock the door with absolutely no success, Shiro cursed quietly._

_“Help me God…”_

_He hesitated a moment, before stepping forward to gently wedge Keith between his body and the door-frame. He felt a flush rise from his chest all the way up to his cheeks, trying to think about anything but the hard lines and heat pressed firmly against him._

_“This would have been a lot easier if you were still on your feet…” he said under his breath as he shoved the key in the lock as quickly as possible._

_He breathed a sigh of relief as the mechanism clicked and the door creaked open. Shoving the keys back into his own pocket, Shiro turned his attention back to Keith, rearranging his hold with both hands now free into a bridal carry. He cradled him perhaps a little closer and more tenderly than strictly necessary those last few steps, heading straight to the bedroom to finally place him down._

_“Mm… Shiro…”_

_He huffed a laugh. “Oh so_ now _you’re awake.”_

_Dark lashes fluttered open slowly._

_“Takashi…”_

_And Shiro felt his breath catch, arrested._

_“Stay?”_

_Shiro nodded, throat dry. “Yeah buddy. Someone has to keep an eye on you. I’ll be on the couch.”_

_He tried to straighten, but was stopped by a hand wrapping around his wrist, pulling him back down. Shiro let out an undignified sound, barely catching himself before he fell on top of the bed. On top of Keith. Small fingers entwined tightly between his, keeping him still._

_“Stay,” he said again, a little more firmly, pulling him closer again so Shiro had to brace his hand on the pillow by his head._

_Shiro drew in a shaky breath, closing his eyes. It would be so easy to say yes, to pull back the covers and lie down beside him. He was sure Keith would let him draw him close and mold his body to his without a word of protest. Maybe he would wrap his arms around his waist and nestle his face into his chest with a soft goodnight. It wouldn’t be much different to any other time when they would fall asleep on the couch in front of trashy 80’s kids cartoons._

_Except it would be entirely different. Even in the haze of his own insobriety, Shiro knew there was a weight behind Keith’s request he would rather revisit when they couldn’t blame the alcohol. And so with a gentle kiss to the back of his knuckles - his strength had its limits - Shiro gently untangled them to sit on the edge of the bed beside him._

_“Go to sleep,” he whispered, brushing his fringe from his eyes. Keith seemed to melt under the touch, sinking further into his pillow, eyes closing slowly again. “I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning.”_

_Shiro waited until his breathing evened out, occupying himself by counting the lashes on his cheeks and tracing the lines of his nose, his brow and jaw with feather-light fingers. Certain he wouldn’t stir, Shiro dutifully retrieved a bucket from under the bathroom sink to place beside the bed, just in case, and a large glass of water on the desk nearby. Only when he laid down on the couch in the adjacent room, did Shiro allow himself a giddy smile. He knew not to get his hopes up, that he couldn’t hold Keith to the things he had said and done tonight._

_But it didn’t stop his heart from singing sweetly in his chest that maybe, just maybe, Keith loved him the same way too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And for the Ace Attorney fans: yes, I'm taking some liberties with the storyline and game lore. In the words of Lance McClain, chapter 3: sue me (but don't).
> 
> This is also where my initial planning ends when I started this fic, so I anticipate my workrate is going to slow down a little from here. I have a map of where I want to go but the path is empty for now. I'll try to stay motivated!
> 
> Feel free to spam me with Sheith and Claypollo content at [justicelawoffices](http://justicelawoffices.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


End file.
